The Christmas Ship
by Bad Luck Bree
Summary: Christmas aboard the Flying Dutchman: set after Bad Luck Bree. Has slight implied mature content, nothing graphic, and all clean. MERRY CHRISTMAS!


The Christmas Ship

Bree stood, looking out over the frosted waves. Snow fluttered down like small pieces of cotton, landing on her shoulders and hair. She blinked, picking the flakes from her eyelashes and shaking her head. It was cold…very cold. A frigid wind blew. But Bree didn't heed it. She was used to this weather.

Bree pulled an old coat closer around her, pulling the collar up around her cheeks. It kept her warm enough. Her mind was busy with thoughts. It was December, and Bree knew it was nearing Christmas. She had always looked forward to Christmas when she was a child, and even now she cherished the day. This would be her first Christmas on the _Dutchman_, and she doubted they celebrated it.

_I can change that…_

Bree heard the door to the captain's cabin open. She heard Jones' voice call, "Bree, ye goin' to stand out there 'til ye turn into a snowperson?"

Bree turned her head, smiling at him, "Just thinkin', sir. It don't bother me none."

Jones closed the door behind him, going to join Bree. He looked sideways at her. He thought she looked very pretty like this, her cheeks pink from the cold, the color of her lips brought out more and her hair blowing across her face. But she looked a bit uncomfortable. Wrapping his good arm around her shoulder, Jones pulled her closer to him, warming her, "What is it ye're thinkin' 'bout?"

Bree blew a sigh, "Well…I was just…it's December, an' Christmas is comin' soon."

Jones looked down at her, surprised, "Christmas? That's it?"

Bree nodded, "Aye…couldn't we have our own li'l Christmas?"

Jones snorted, "Bree, this is a ghost ship crewed by cursed souls…'tis the last place ye'd find Christmas."

Bree retorted, "Ye're the last man who could find a woman to deal with yer bossy personality!"

Jones glared playfully down at her, "Bossy? Did ye call me bossy?"

Bree hid a smile, "Maybe I did. What're ye goin' to do about it?"

Jones grabbed her hand, drawing her into his cabin, growling menacingly, "I'll have to punish ye properly." He shut the door, turning and trapping Bree in his strong embrace, squeezing. Bree made a croaking noise, "Gaaaah! Ye'll snap me spine, ye great ox!"

Jones kissed the side of her neck, "Ach, callin' me names, me liddle tiger? All because ye want to have a Christmas aboard the _Flying Dutchman_?"

Bree pretended to fight, easily yielding to his 'attacks'. She beat lightly at his chest, "Ye great oaf! Ye're ticklin' me!"

Jones always let himself get carried away when he was alone with Bree. She brought out the lost child in him. These were the only times he could ever be playful. He ran his good hand down her torso, tickling her, resulting in squeaking laughter from her as she wriggled.

Bree managed to slip out of Jones' arms and run to the corner of the cabin, behind the globe. She squeezed in behind it, putting it between Jones and herself. He came after her, moving the globe and putting his hand and claw against the wall either side of Bree, trapping her. He growled in mock rage, "Insubordination!" Then he began covering her face with kisses, something he reserved for when they were alone together.

Bree pressed the heel of her hand against Jones' shoulders, but he wrapped his tentacle beard around her wrists, gently forcing her arms to lace around his neck. He then threaded his tentacles around her waist, pulling her body closer to his.

Bree spoke in a voice breathless with laughter, "W-what are ye doin'?"

Jones laughed once, his voice low and taking on a seductive tone, "Am I not fancy enough for ye, Bree darlin'?"

Bree reached up and removed Jones' hat, tracing the side of his face with her hand, "Sometimes I think ye're _too_ fancy for me, Davy…"

Jones laughed, delighted with her. He pressed forward, kissing her thoroughly. Bree opened her mouth, answering. A thought passed through her mind before she yielded to Jones.

_Seems we're already in the Christmas spirit…_

It hadn't been too hard for Bree to convince Jones to let her carry out her own little Christmas. He acted gruff and reluctant, but Bree could tell he wouldn't refuse her anything in a moment like this.

Bree had set straight to work the next morning. She was excused from her day's chores and given leave to make some decorations. She gathered seaweed to dry out, found a few dead, hardened starfish and shells she could use, and gathered up all the broken shards of bottles she could find.

Bree set out all her supplies in a circle around her in Jones' cabin. She took the newly dried out strands of seaweed and bent them into flexible strips, working out what to do with them. She began weaving them together to make one big braided strand, thick and sturdy.

Jones entered, curiosity overcoming him. He saw Bree, her face set in concentration. Jones went to sit beside her, watching. He admired how quickly Bree's nimble fingers braided the strands of seaweed together. In no time, she had the strong, tough material.

Bree then began trying in the shells, bits of glass and other trinkets she had found. Jones was fascinated. He continued to watch her. She would put a shell there, a bit of glass there…then she tore a strip from her blue sash and tied the material together in a circle with a pretty bow. It was a wreath.

Bree looked up at Jones, smiling, "Look! It's finished!"

Jones leaned over and gave her a short kiss on the cheek, "Ye're a marvelous creature, Bree…ye goin' to hang it up on the door?"

"Aye…can I?" Bree asked, and Jones nodded. Bree got up, going outside and taking a spare nail. She nailed it into the door and hung the wreath up. The crew all stopped, gaping at the sight. A Christmas wreath…on the _Flying Dutchman_, no less!

Clanker spoke in wonder, "God Almighty…makes ye feel all holly an' jolly, so it does!"

Hadras was quick to point out, "Ye can't feel holly, mate…that ain't an adjective."

"Shut up."

Christmas was two days away, and the whole crew of the cursed ship had, for the first time in several centuries, felt the true Christmas spirit. Each crewmember had done their share of decorating, whether it be the hold, the mast, the main deck, themselves…

On the ceiling of the hold, they had hung dried out crusts of starfish, giving the appearance of the holy star over Bethlehem. Another crewmember had wrapped a long garland of decorated seaweed around the railing and another around the mast. Everyone was in the mood. And now everyone was busy making gifts for everyone else. Even Jimmylegs wasn't as irritable as usual.

Every night, the crew would all gather in the hold. Bree would treat them all to a Christmas carol, and those who could still remember the words would sing along. It would be a strange sight indeed to another sailor. The _Flying Dutchman_, dread ship of Davy Jones himself, floating along…filled with the sound of strong voices heartily singing out Christmas carols?

Bree woke early that morning, excitement filling her.

_Christmas!_

Turning, Bree shook Jones awake, "Davy! Davy! 'Tis Christmas mornin'!"

Jones woke, lifting his head groggily, "Er…ah, Christmas…aye…ye go on, I'll catch up…" He lay back down, pretending to go back to sleep just to annoy Bree.

Bree huffed, hitting him with her side of the blankets. She rose, dressing herself. She walked out on deck, pulling on her coat. The weather wasn't too bitter cold, and it looked beautiful. "A nice pretty bit o' snow!"

Jimmylegs emerged from the hold, calling out in what was a cheery voice for him, "Merry Christmas, Miss Bree!"

Bree beamed back at him, returning the greeting, "An' to ye as well, Master Jimmylegs!"

Clanker, who had been at the wheel, came around to Bree, giving her a strong hug, "Merry Christmas, mate! Ye've put that spirit back in us all!"

The day was one Bree would lock in her memories forever. Of course, they had no Christmas feast, but they all sat together talking and laughing. Then there came a time to pass out the gifts they had made for one another. Bree went first. She handed out each gift: a fine new chain for Clanker to put on his weapon, a wonderful new belt for Jimmylegs, a small device she had concocted for Hadras to help keep his head on, and engraved soldier for Penrod, a small sketch framed with wood for Bootstrap, and many more gifts. Then the others passed out their gifts. The gifts, to us, would seem rather stupid and cheap, but they meant so much more to the others. Bree received many pretty trinkets from the crewmembers made from shells, bits of bone and other things: a comb made from shell and bone, a ribbon to thread through her hair, a pendant to wear around her neck, and much more.

Bootstrap gave his gift last. He walked over to Jones and Bree, saying, "My gift ain't much, but…" He took something from his pocket. It was a small bunch of sea urchin quills tied together with a ribbon. He hung it over Jones and Bree's heads, "Our version o' mistletoe!"

The crew all laughed, and Bree colored. Jones pretended to scowl, but leaned down and kissed Bree. The crew cheered and clapped, all satisfied.

Then the dancing and singing began. Bootstrap, who could play the fiddle almost as well as Bree, played many lively tunes. Bree danced with everyone, even with Penrod, though she had to bend down. Then Jones and Bree danced together with all the crew cheering and clapping along to the tune. All in all, it was a merry gathering.

The merriment was over, and the crew had retired to their hammocks for a good sleep. They had broken out what rum they had left and now had slight hangovers, but all were content and happy.

Bree and Jones retreated to the cabin. Bree went to the corner, taking something from her pocket. She fingered it, turning, "Davy…I didn't give ye yer Christmas gift yet…"

Jones turned, smiling at her, "Ah, sweet girl…ye didn't have to give me a gift."

Bree laughed, striding forward, "Well, I did. Here." She slipped something onto his finger, "I hope ye like it…"

Jones looked at it. It was a ring, pounded from a chain link and with a flat disk adorning it, crowned with a small pearl. To a normal sailor, it might seem a meager ring. But Jones thought it looked beautiful. Not only had Bree made it, but she had limited resources to do so. He smiled, "'Tis lovely, Bree. I'll wear it proudly." He then reached into his pocket, drawing something out, "This is my present for ye."

Bree felt him place something in her hand. She looked at it. It was a carving of a small horse with eyes set in rose quartz. She looked up at Jones, wonder in her eyes, "Did ye carve this?"

Jones looked down at his claw, "Aye, no easy task, but anythin' for ye, Bree." He tipped her chin, "I know how much ye love horses. Thought ye'd like it."

"I love it!" Bree said, never taking her eyes from it. Then she looked up at Jones, "Thank ye…" She stood on tiptoe and kissed him.

Jones kissed her back, stroking her hair and whispering, "Merry Christmas, Bree…"


End file.
